It Just Slipped
by phalangesbyfive
Summary: Series of one-shots all focused around freudian slips between Castle and Beckett. Ratings will vary, but T will be the highest.
1. Tongue Tied

**Freudian slip: a verbal mistake that is thought to reveal a repressed belief, thought, or emotion**

Damn Schlemming...why did every case tie into a robbery all of a sudden? The man never seemed to leave, and neither did the stick that was stuck far up his rear. The challenge in his eyes when Beckett wasn't looking was enough to drive Castle mad.

How could a brilliant homicide detective like herself be so oblivious to the competition between her two suitors? The pointed, icy looks they shared behind her back couldn't be that easy to miss. In fact, Castle was pretty sure everyone _but_ her had noticed.

She always did have a knack for seeing only the things he didn't want her to see and ignoring the rest. Selective sight, he liked to call it. Not to her face, of course. He didn't have a death wish.

But if she didn't start paying attention soon, he might get one. The tension in the air was slowly killing him. He was practically wading through it at this point.

The current case, however, had absolutely nothing to do with robbery. Castle was looking forward to a Demming-free environment for the next few days. He was even chipper when walking into the precinct, humming, some bounce in his step.

When he saw Kate and Tom (he flinched at the thought of his name) standing by the expresso machine, he nearly dropped the styrofoam cups he was carrying. He certainly did _not _buy that for his use.

"Morning, Beckett." With an annoyed glance to the side, he added, "Demming," receiving a brisk nod in response.

She gave him a warm smile, unaware of the annoyance quickly building between the two men in her presence. "Morning, Castle." Catching sight of the coffee in his hands, she glanced down at her own in guilt.

"Tom, I'll see you tonight?" she said by way of a dismissal. He looked in Castle's direction as he kissed Kate's cheek before walking off. Castle had to fight the urge to elbow him in the gut as he passed.

"Did he have to do that in the break room..." he muttered louder than he'd intended.

Beckett's head jerked in his direction. "Is there a problem?"

"No, I just don't think it's very sanitary to be doing that near food, is all."

Her eyebrow arched. "It's not really your business. The food is fine, don't be ridiculous."

"Oh, so I'm ridiculous for not wanting to find hairs in my expresso? Is it too much to ask that you save that stuff for the privacy of your own home?" The volume of his voice was starting to escalate in anger against his will. The irrational child in him was feeling volatile.

A part of him knew he was overreacting, but it was overpowered by the part that was sick of replaying Beckett and Demming whispering sweet nothings when they thought no one was around, or the look Kate got whenever he so much as smiled at her.

There was a third, even more powerful part of him that was pushing him to raise his voice for no apparent reason: he let it happen, he was the reason they were flirting and flaunting it in his face. It was all because he hadn't acted when he had the chance.

"Yes, you and this conversation are both ridiculous. Cool it or go home. I don't have time for this." She brushed past him with more force than was necessary, unbalancing him and the coffee. The hot liquid scorched his chest.

"Shit!" He tossed the now empty cups on the table and rushed over to the napkins, running water over them and wiping away at the stickiness. He undid the top few buttons of his shirt, revealing scalded red skin. "What was that for!" Even in the heat of a fight, she couldn't help but appreciate his chest.

Swallowing her apology and ending her short fantasy about him shirtless, she exclaimed, "It's not like I did it on purpose! What's your problem, Castle?"

"My problem is Demming. He's interfering with our work."

"_Our _work? How exactly is he getting in the way of _our_ work, Castle? Please, enlighten me." She had the higher ground, and she knew it. It gave her that superior "I know I'm right" look and a tone to match.

"I've seen how distracted he makes you. How are we supposed to solve cases when you're all goo-goo eyes over him?" He was fastening his shirt back up now, nearly tearing the buttons off in anger.

"Goo-goo eyes? Real mature, Castle," she patronized.

Standing up straight, he retorted, "Really mature."

"Excuse me?" Her arms were crossed now as she stood in utter disbelief.

"Real is an adjective. You need an adverb there: really." There was no more anger detectable in his voice. He sounded like a teacher with a slow student. It drove her to the boiling point.

"Are you seriously correcting my grammar? Do you honestly think now is the time for that?" She could hardly spit it out, it was so outrageous. No way in hell were they having this conversation. It had to be a dream. She wasn't even sure what they were arguing about. Surely it wasn't over the coffee or a few talks with Demming. Castle couldn't possibly be _that_ immature.

"There is always time for improvement, Detective." He might as well have said "nanner nanner boo boo", he sounded that childish.

"You've got to be kidding me. This is the most stupid conversation I've ever had with you, and that's saying something." Walking toward her desk, she decided she was done with this. He could go be juvenile somewhere else.

He followed behind her, either oblivious to her not-so-subtle hint or simply ignoring it. Tossing the soggy napkins on her desk, he grabbed her elbow and spun her around to face him.

"Oh, is that how you really feel?" Suddenly his went soft, his hand loosened its grasp. "What do you even see in him, Kate? Since we're being so brutally honest here, tell me that." His voice faltered, making him sound defeated and beat-down. She didn't want to hear him say her name like that.

"There are...feelings..." She was stuttering now, feeling like the villain, too weak and shocked to pull her arm away.

"Go on, what kind of feelings? Is he your one and done? Say it, Kate." He needed to hear it directly from her, needed it embedded in his mind so he could move on.

"I just, I like him...I have feelings for Castle, okay!" she shouted, finally jerking her arm out of his grasp.

They both stood motionless, silent. Castle felt his jaw drop slightly, so surprised he couldn't even appreciate the cartoonish feel of it. His hand was still in midair, but he took no notice.

"I meant Tom. I-" Her voice trailed off, the lack of noise more deafening than their yelling match from before.

"Yeah, I figured. Mistakes happen," he mumbled, scratching the back of his neck. Neither had any idea what to do but stand there awkwardly.

The fight, however, had drawn in a crowd. Esposito, Ryan, and Lanie all three stood off to the side, seemingly just as flabbergasted as the two caught in the act. The boys must've retrieved Lanie; there was no way she heard it all from the morgue.

"Beckett, we have a suspect in custody," Esposito informed her, quickly followed by Ryan's, "We can handle it if you're busy."

"No, I got it." She snatched a file off her desk and marched into the interrogation room with a fierce determination. They all felt sorry for the poor guy she was going to grill. She'd definitely get a confession out of him, and fast.

Ryan and Esposito gave Castle a quick, baffled look before scurrying off to their desks and acting busy. Lanie, however, remained close by.

Castle stared off into space, his features contorted in confusion. He was trying to get what just happened to register. She meant Demming; she'd said so herself. Yet he couldn't shake the feeling that what had come out was exactly what she meant.

Lanie had approached his side while he was deep in thought. "That was your opening," she said matter-of-factly.

He breathed out deeply in disappointment and defeat. "Yeah, I know."

* * *

_So this is going to be a series of one-shots. Castle and Beckett will be making these little slip ups in every one. Thank you to beetlebug for the amazing help and being my muse._

_Review? I have an idea for the next chapter (thanks again to bug), but after that I'll need some suggestions. _


	2. Speed Dial

_This oneshot is dedicated to Scarlet Royal's Castle. She's going through a hard time. Love you! _

_Also, this isn't a freudian slip, but softer had the idea and I couldn't resist. It's a slip of some sort, so we figured it would work._

* * *

"I still say it's the dog," Castle commented from his chair as he blew on a fresh cup of coffee. Kate looked up at him with a disapproving frown and a roll of the eyes.

"Will you drop the dog thing? The dog is not our perp." She must've said it five times already, each time growing more annoyed, her eyes disappearing further and further behind her lids as they made their usual rounds. To tell the truth, though, Castle had the best idea so far; that is to say he had the _only_ idea.

"Fine. It'd be difficult to handcuff him, anyway." He pouted like a child and sank into his seat, giving the whiteboard forlorn glances.

"Yes, Castle, that's the biggest problem with your scenario." She shoved back from the desk and abruptly stood, staring intently at the words on the board for the umpteenth time. They were beginning to look like a mass of scribbles rather than evidence in a double homicide.

"He walks home one night and sees his door smashed in," she began, unknowingly taking a step forward and leaning against the side of her desk. Castle was eye-level with her thighs, and he took the time to appreciate it after hours of staring at a dead end.

"And instead of calling the police, he walks in and finds his wife and brother in a compromising position on the couch." His eyes traveled up shamelessly.

She could feel his heated glance and shivered, trying desperately to ignore it. "According to Lanie, the bodies were positioned like that by the killer post-mortem."

Noticing her reaction, Castle didn't even attempt to cover his grin. His expression and the topic they were discussing in serious tones couldn't have been more opposite."The attacker approaches from behind, knocks him out, and runs off into the night. Cops arrive when a neighbor notices the broken door."

"The man is already conscious and icing his head. We have proof he didn't do this, but all the signs point to him." Stumped, Kate chewed her bottom lip and furrowed her brow.

Castle jumped up, knocking into her side and offering no apology. They turned to one another, the proximity closer than work friendly, a familiar shared look between them.

"Carl," they said in unison, spinning around to get their jackets and head out the door, Kate calling out to Esposito and Ryan for backup.

* * *

Beckett pressed the pedal harder, adrenaline pounding in her ears as the car screeched past the edge of a curb, just barely missing a newspaper stand.

"Cut him off," she barked to Esposito and Ryan. She saw their patrol car take a sharp turn and speed around a corner to get ahead.

Castle was clutching his seat for dear life, his knuckles white, a nervous smile occasionally transforming into grimace when things got a little too close for comfort. His stomach was yelling him for secretly wanting to be in an intense car chase for all these years.

"Can you slow down, please?" he gasped, one step closer to getting sick.

Her response was a swerve to the other side of the road, quickly jerking back and stopping in the middle of the street, horns blaring despite the flashing siren. Esposito and Ryan were stuck behind a wreck with no way out, leaving the detective and nauseous writer on their own.

"He's on foot, headed west," Ryan shouted through the police scanner.

Beckett hopped out and snatched their vests from the trunk, throwing Castle his and running off in the direction Ryan gave.

Castle leaned over and clutched his stomach, trying not to heave, his vest falling to the pavement. The ground was spinning rapidly, and his jello legs were having a hard time supporting his weight. Incoherent noises escaped his lips as he waited for the chaos in his head to subside.

As soon as his feet resembled feet and no longer two puddles, he shoved his vest on and treaded after the detective at a snails pace, but at least it was momentum.

He turned around a Starbucks to find Beckett pinning their perp to the ground, her body on top of his barely enough to keep him down. His legs flailed in every direction, narrowly missing her arm with each pass.

"Castle, I need you to get my phone out of my back pocket and hit speed dial 1. We need backup." She elbowed Carl in the back, stopping his motions for a moment so she could catch her breath.

"What!" His jaw dropped, his legs turning to jello again for a completely different reason.

"Just do it."

He dropped to his knees, his throat dry from running and the task ahead of him. Why couldn't she have put the phone in its usual place in a more appropriate area to be fiddling around with?

It wasn't reaching into her pocket and uncharted territory that was scaring him; in fact, that sent a thrill down his spine. It was the fact that he could get shot if he showed the pleasure it would give him.

"Hurry!" she grunted, slamming the criminal back down.

Taking a deep breath, Castle lunged for the bulge in her pocket. Closing his eyes was a fatal mistake. Slipping a few inches too far to the right, he ended up groping her, and he could help but moan at the contact.

Beckett didn't notice, however, for she was too busy sucking in a deep breath and squeezing her eyes shut, fighting a wave of pleasure of her own. "You missed," she finally let out.

"Uh, yeah, noticed." He quickly slid his hand into her pocket and grabbed the phone, silently thanking it for giving him the opportunity to touch her, albeit unintentionally, and walk away with no extra holes in his body.

Intending to hold down the 1, his shaking fingers fumbled and hit the 2. Before he could hang up and try again, he felt something vibrating against his leg.

Looking at her screen in confusion, a picture of himself popped up with "Castle" plastered under it. A picture he'd never seen or remembered posing for. He was sitting in his chair, deep in thought and staring off into space. No way he knew that was being taken when it happened.

Beckett was too busy holding down the perp to take note of his strange, grinch-like smile. He hung up on himself and called the precinct, already plotting what to do with this discovery.

* * *

Beckett, feeling just _slightly _peeved over the the amount of energy she had to exert in order to bring the guy in, verbally beat the confession out of him in a matter of thirty minutes or so. She now stood victoriously by the coffee machine, tapping her fingers impatiently.

Castle approached her excitedly, the time to execute his plan finally right. The two cups of coffee he'd practically inhaled earlier only fueled his child-like buzz.

"That was a complete 180 from this morning, huh?" She asked casually, leaning forward to check the coffee making process.

"I'd say so. Hey, so who else do you have on speed dial?" After receiving a questioning look, he explained as nonchalantly as he could manage. "Research."

The look she got whenever Nikki Heat was brought up clouded her features. It wasn't cold or cruel – more professional and guarded.

"Precinct, Lanie, Ryan, Esposito, Montgomery, Dad," she listed off, tagging "you" quietly to the end. "In that order," she hastened to add.

Castle stepped toward her slowly, now letting his smile shine brightly, enjoying the apprehension she so clearly displayed in her defensive posture.

"Detective," he whispered when he reached her, pushing a stray strand of hair from her face.

Heat spread over her skin, forming a blush she couldn't disguise by clearing her throat, though she tried. "Uh, yes?" His breath against her cheek mixing with the aroma of her favorite coffee smelled heavenly, simply irresistible.

Another step and the inches between them were coming to a close. She could almost feel his lips, licking her own at the thought. How would he taste, how perfectly their bodies would entwine...

"I have a secret." His fingers moved down to her collarbone, brushing lightly across her skin.

"What is it?" she muttered, holding onto the counter to support herself, not trusting her own shaky legs. His smoldering eyes bore through her, making her crinkle her toes. If only a look could do that, she couldn't even begin to comprehend what he could do with his hands.

His lips were against her ear now, and his hands slid down her sides, quickly but smoothly sliding to her phone. "I'm second on your speed dial. And I'm apparently highly photogenic, though that's not a surprise."

A shock of surprise and anger pulsated through her, causing her push against his chest to be a little too hard as she jerked back as far as the space behind her would allow. "What are you talking about?"

Chuckling, he held the phone up and waggled his eyebrows, quickly dashing away in order to avoid the inevitable punch.

Beckett immediately chased after him, making half-hearted attempts to snatch it back, his laughter echoing around the halls.

* * *

_Special thanks to Beetlebug for being amazing at coming up with titles...and just in general, really. You're awesome, Andy. Seriously._

_Another thanks to Softer for always being around to bounce ideas off of and for being incredible. Oh, and for telling me to hush when I'm too critical of my writing. Really, thanks._

_If you enjoyed, a review, no matter how short, would be wonderful. Suggestions for other slips are welcome._


	3. Rude Awakening

"Stop staring, Castle." Beckett finished writing her sentence, growing more and more sick of paperwork. The tiresome duty was made worse by the constant burn of Castle's eyes on her side.

He just smiled at her, full of cheer, before yawning and rubbing his eyes.

"I've told you a hundred times: it's creepy," she continued.

He leaned forward. "You track down killers every day without breaking a sweat. Someone so much as looks at you for too long and _that_ creeps you out?" She just smirked. "I'm bored," he whined.

She leaned toward him in response, batting her eyes without meaning to, intoxicated by his proximity. "You get bored far too easily."

He sat back in his seat, gulping, looking at her green eyes in wonder. "Hey, take it up with the lazy criminals in this city. And when you do, take me along. It's so hot when you-"

She slammed her pen down a little too hard, glaring at him in a challenging way, daring him to finish that sentence before she could reach her gun.

He held his hands up in surrender, yawning again. Beckett continued scribbling down details of her latest case, sighing at the amount of blank spaces left on the page. It was already a long day, and it was hardly past noon.

Castle looked away, glancing back at her discretely every so often. She noticed, but didn't have the energy to say anything. At least he wasn't talking.

She worked in silence for twenty minutes before she noticed it: Castle wasn't making a peep. There were no tapping feet, crazy stories, songs being hummed, or pens beating out a rhythm. Nothing was disturbing her peace.

When she turned to see what the hell was going on, she saw his head lolled back and his lips slightly parted.

Kate laughed at the image of Castle asleep at her desk, drool falling from the corner of his mouth and his nose scrunching up every few seconds.

The peaceful, innocent look only lasted a moment before his lips turned up into a lopsided grin that could only mean trouble. "Beckett," he whispered in a tone that was almost a moan.

She sat up straighter, the shock shooting adrenaline through her body. If anyone heard that…maybe he wouldn't say it again. God, Esposito and Ryan weren't far away, and the sound carried well from her spot in the middle of the room.

"Beckett," he mumbled again, shifting in his seat. "Oh, Beckett." _Please tell me he isn't having that kind of dream…_Esposito looked over and saw her alarmed expression, his brow furrowing.

This had to stop before he figured out exactly what Castle was dreaming about.

She kicked the leg of his chair without moving her torso, her eyes remaining glued to her paper. Castle shot up, looking around frantically and wiping away the drool.

"What the hell was that for?" He was still half-asleep and confused, his voice groggy and low.

Kate felt her cheeks heat and turn red. "Uh." She cleared her throat, waiting a second for her blush to fade. "If I can't sleep, neither can you. Go home if you want to nap," she said in an inviting tone, more than happy with that scenario.

Castle grumbled, crossing his legs. "Didn't have to be so abrupt. That's no way to wake someone."

She glared and returned to her work, her mind focusing more on what she'd just heard, wondering what he could have been thinking to make him say her name. Not just say her name, either. It was the way he said it that brought another blush to her cheeks.

Castle didn't fail to notice. "Something on your mind, Detective?" He went from looking curious to looking suspicious when her cheeks went a darker shade of red.

She shook her head once and continued ignoring him, which only fueled his desire to agitate.

"Really? Looks to me like you're embarrassed about something going on in that head of yours. I won't laugh." His smile said otherwise.

"Quiet, Castle. I want to go home sometime today, and I can't finish with you talking incessantly." At this point, finishing her paragraph was impossible, and she began to scribble off to the side in order to look busy.

"You really don't want me to know? It must be pretty good." He prodded at her mercilessly with no intention of giving up. It was written all over his face. Something she didn't want him to know was something he absolutely had to know.

Why he insisted on sitting around on his ass all day while she did paperwork was a complete mystery to Beckett. Observing was a big part of her job. It got dull to look for too long; she knew this for a fact. Writing wasn't interesting to do, much less watch.

"Seriously, Castle. Drop it." She was composed now, anger overpowering everything else she was feeling: embarrassment, curiosity, and a tug in her stomach that warmed her heart while unsettling her at the same time.

Challenge accepted. He'd quickly learned that the best way to drag something out of Beckett was to bother her until she decided it wasn't worth keeping to herself.

The moment he thought this, something flickered in his eyes. They were sparkling mischievously, lit up with possibility, and it was the single thing she dreaded facing most in her day.

Years of working in a male-dominant career luckily taught her how to handle these situations. She put her pen down with purpose, swiveling her chair around to face him. "You want to let this go," she told him.

"Do I?" He clasped his hands together and flashed her a cheeky smile.

Turning back to her desk, she looked over to see that the boys had left for a late lunch. No one was around.

"Oh, Beckett," she mimicked, trying to suppress the heat rushing to multiple places in her body. She hated that it drew this reaction from her. Knowing that Castle had steamy dreams about her shouldn't have been so pleasing.

His eyes grew wide. "What…" He couldn't manage to string together a sentence. He remembered vividly what he'd been dreaming about only minutes before.

"You're quite the sleep-talker, Castle." She managed to hold back a laugh, but her eyes were smiling for her.

He sat stock-still, horror overwhelming him, and for a few brief seconds, he couldn't breathe.

She let out a laugh; it grew in intensity when she saw his face. "I told you to drop it."

He began to chuckle to cover up his mortification, and they both fed on the laughter of the other until it was all they could do to sit up and Castle no longer cared that she knew.

"You're an inspiration in more ways than one," he joked.

She met his eyes, a retort ready, when she was caught off-guard by the genuine, serious look he bore.

A warmth spread from her stomach to the tips of her toes and back again, and she couldn't look away.

* * *

_This isn't a freudian slip, really, but it is a slip. The next one will be. I have it planned out and everything. Thanks for your kind reviews._


	4. Bold

Though he'd never admit it, writer's block was all too familiar with Richard Castle. It was because of this that he spent many nights with the lights turned down low as he wrote; not just for the ambience, but because frustration often gave him migraines.

The new Nikki Heat book, Heat of the Moment, was due in three days, and it still needed a lot of work.

It should have been a breeze, but he'd promised his favorite detective that she could read it before he handed in the final copy. She was expecting it first thing in the morning and would without a doubt complain about his tardiness. How's a girl supposed to read an entire book in one day, after all?

He didn't bother pointing out how excited she got when he so much as brought up the new book, or the fact that she had a day off work to dedicate to it. Instead, he enjoyed the smile she was quick to hide.

_Clock's ticking_, she texted him. He looked at his watch and readily agreed, so used to her uncanny ability to always know what he was doing that it didn't faze him.

_Where's your faith in my abilities? You'll have it, as promised, _he replied with a nonchalance he definitely didn't feel.

Beckett didn't respond to that immediately. He liked to think it was the Christmas effect: the excitement builds and you go to sleep so tomorrow comes faster.

Castle decided to keep that theory to himself, lest she get offended and grab his nose when she next saw him.

He was starting to get sleepy; sleepy, frustrated, and potentially dead in less than 24 hours if he didn't finish. The wrath of Beckett would be upon him soon.

_I can feel your writer's block all the way over here,_ she texted him fifteen minutes later. How did she do that!

After a small internal debate over whether or not he should give in and call her for help, he quickly responded, _Hush and go to sleep, smarty-pants._

She snuggled deeper into her bed and smiled_. G'night, master procrastinator._

Master procrastinator? He grinned and nodded to himself, filing away thoughts about making that into a t-shirt for when he was allowing himself to use the internet.

Focus on writing, he repeated for the umpteenth time that night.

But of course, he didn't, because now he was thinking about Kate snuggled up in bed, hair a beautiful mess and face peaceful in her sleep.

One of the most difficult things to overcome when he wrote about Nikki Heat was separating reality from fiction. He'd learned years ago that his character didn't hold a flame to the real thing, but he spent countless hours trying to get it close without betraying Kate's trust.

What Beckett wasn't aware of was how much he thought about her when he stayed up on nights like these. When a deadline was approaching and he needed that extra push, he closed his eyes and imagined her in every word he typed.

It was a helpful technique, but deadly when it came to a love scene like the one he was currently working on.

Channeling his innermost fantasies, he kept his eyes closed while Nikki and Rook rendezvoused on the page before him.

xxxxxxxx

Kate woke up at six, made coffee, and sat on the couch to wait for Castle's arrival. He'd texted her two hours earlier, claiming the masterpiece was nearly complete and ready for her perusal. Then another text came in ten minutes ago, saying he was in a cab and on the way.

She wanted to feign annoyance at his assumption she'd be awake and this excited to read it, but she _was_ and didn't want to risk him calling her bluff and turning right back around.

Fingers tapping impatiently on her coffee cup, she nearly jumped out of her skin when he knocked on the door.

Kate lunged up, realizing she looked like a total fan-girl without caring in the slightest, because this fan girl got to read an advanced copy of her favorite author's book.

"Hey," she greeted him with a smile, finding it amusing that he looked the part of a nocturnal writer in need of a nap and shower. "Gimme." She reached out a hand for the book he was holding.

He held it up just out of reach. "One condition."

She sighed and rolled her eyes. "I already know. 'No sharing, no matter what.' I got it."

"Yes," he agreed, still keeping the copy safely in his grasp. "But that's not the condition I'm talking about." He took a dramatic pause. "I need to crash."

Beckett raised an eyebrow in confusion.

"As in sleep. Here, preferably. I don't think I can make it back outside and into a cab." He waved the book tauntingly, a smug smile in place, sure she wouldn't deny him.

"Bed's in there," she motioned with her chin, snatching the book and sauntering away to her favorite chair by the window. "Just don't snore too loudly. I like quiet when I read."

He wanted to grumble something in return, but her comfortable mattress called to him from the other room. "Wake me when you're done," he called out as he collapsed into a pile of pillows and blankets.

She didn't respond, already engrossed in the first chapter. The next day she'd definitely regret letting him see how much she'd been looking forward to this, but right now she didn't care about anything but the pages in her hands.

Rick managed to fall asleep immediately as the detective continued reading. This didn't change for the entire day, until she reached what he'd finished writing only that morning.

When she was able to move after the initial shock, he was rudely awoken by two fingers viciously pinching his ear, shouts of "Wake up, Castle," piercing the air until his eyes flew open.

Jerking back, he clutched the covers closer in a weak defense. "What the hell?"

She was towering over him, a gleam of over-exaggerated anger barely hiding a hint of nervousness. "Did you happen to proofread the last, I don't know, four chapters of this?"

He was still trying to catch his breath and didn't answer fast enough, but her hand reaching out for his ear again got his brain moving at a more Beckett-friendly pace. "No, I didn't have time. Why?"

She shook her head in disbelief. "You need to see this." Her finger held a place on page 182, and he squinted as he read.

When he realized what got her so upset, he scooted farther back in the bed, arms raised defensively. "That was completely unintentional."

Kate laughed in exasperation. "You used our names, Castle!"

His first instinct when she used that tone was to deny whatever she was blaming him for, but the glaring proof was right in front of him. He'd undoubtedly replaced "Rook" and "Nikki" with "Beckett" and "Castle".

Floundering for words, he eyed the door and wondered how fast she was without heels and exactly how much of a head start he'd need. "I was tired. It was an honest mistake," he tried to explain.

She closed her eyes briefly, taking a moment to think. When she looked at him this time, it was with a timid smile. "You're so easy," she teased, but they both knew at least some part of her was freaked out by the slip, especially one placed in a love scene.

He let out an audible breath, releasing his death-grip on the blanket. "I'll fix it before Gina gets her hands on it," he promised. "I really don't want her to know I made that mistake."

Beckett rolled her eyes. "It's not like she'd think anything of it. It doesn't mean anything. They're just characters." She needed him to agree and laugh it off with her.

He nodded, and she started to walk away in relief before he could make an argument. "Well," he started, noticing the way her shoulders tensed when he spoke. "Characters based off us. You could see where she might get the wrong idea." Or the right one. Definitely the right one.

"No, not really," she said through gritted teeth, her back still turned. "While they're based loosely-" she stressed that word, "-on us, you write them in different situations. Gina understands that."

He couldn't resist the bait, the opportunity to prove her wrong and make her just a little uncomfortable with new territory.

"Yes, but I always think of us when I write them," he admitted with no indication that this was hard for him to say.

Kate's jaw dropped slightly, and she was grateful he hadn't moved from his place in the bed. Was he really going there? "Sure," she choked out, clearing her throat. "You use a lot of information from cases we've worked."

She was mentally begging him to let this drop; he clearly got the hint and ignored it anyway. Maybe it was that his filter wasn't in place since he'd just woken up, but he felt the need to drop pretenses and be blunt.

"I'm not talking about the technical aspects," he told her boldly, stepping onto the floor, daring her to turn around.

She did so with wide eyes, unable to form a coherent sentence in her mind, much less a viable argument. How did this conversation end up here?

He took this as an invitation to move closer and continue. "You're on my mind when I write all of it: the case, the banter, the sex."

Castle noticed when she gulped.

"You should go," Beckett mumbled. "Thanks for bringing this over." She left the manuscript sitting on the edge of the bed.

He knew it was time to stop, to let her mull over what he'd had no idea he would say when he came over that morning. Nodding, he started to walk out.

But not before gently pressing his lips against her cheek.

* * *

_Completely unrealistic? Probably. Short and to the point? Yep. I just had to take a break from my not-so-happy story, Visiting Hours. It's been a while since I've added anything to this. You guys have any ideas for the next slip?_

_Also, I had "Heat of the Moment" picked out months ago when I started this one-shot. I've noticed other people have used it since then, and I just wanted to clarify that I don't mean to copy anyone, but I'm leaving the title as is._


End file.
